


All these places have their moments.

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The stories behind the five pictures Patrick Kane would die of embarrassment if they ever leaked online, and the one picture that did get leaked" as prompted on hockeyanonmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All these places have their moments.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in November 2011, all rustiness my own as it's one of my earlier works.

**Summer 1998: Buffalo, NY.**

Every guy who has a sister knows that moment. The moment where you get the most terrible feeling in your stomach because you see your sister crying. If you want to put it in hockey terms, it feels like someone took a slapshot aimed directly at your stomach. Repeatedly. So you promise yourself that you will do everything in your power to make sure you never see that look on your her face ever again, no matter whose ass you have to kick, whatever embarrassing things you have to do to make her smile and no matter how many after school detentions or groundings you get for breaking rules. 

Patrick had that moment the summer before his 10th birthday. He’d been in the back yard, playing with a soccer ball, two trees acting as his goalposts when Jacqueline had run past him crying. Patrick kicked the ball aside and followed Jacqueline up to her room, sitting next to her on the bed as she tells him through choked sobs how Kristy from next door wouldn’t let her join their tea party because she is a “baby who isn’t in big school yet” and Erica and Jessica wouldn’t stick up for her, so no one loves her anymore. Patrick may like to tease his sisters sometimes and finds it funny when they get annoyed, but seeing one of them this upset, feeling like no one in her family loves her anymore, is not even close to being fun. So he offers to have a tea party with her, and while he usually hates these girly things, she is only four and he just wants that look off her face. 

That is how there came to be a picture of Patrick Kane looking at his mother’s camera, a small plastic purple tea pot in his hand, a doll on his lap and a pink tiara sitting atop his mess of blonde curls, Jacqueline sitting next to him, smiling one of the widest smiles you were ever likely to see. 

\--

It is more than a decade later when Patrick is back in that same room in Buffalo, barely able to contain his nervous energy ahead of his Stanley Cup day tomorrow. He paces around his little sister’s room, looking at all the pictures she has out from the year of school she finished a few weeks ago, piecing together the story that between the Olympics and the Hawks run to the Stanley Cup, he wasn’t really around to see. And then he spots that photo. He holds it up to her with a look on his face that suggests he is not too amused. 

“You trying to embarrass me?”, he asks and Jacqueline smiles “No, I just love that picture, you’ve always been a great brother”, before turning her attention back to her cellphone, (God, she has a boyfriend doesn’t she, it is the only explanation for the nonstop texting she’s been doing since Patrick’s been home. Patrick cringes at the thought. She is his baby sister dammit.)

As nice as Jacqueline’s explanation for displaying the picture may be, it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing and Jacqueline looks up from her phone a few moments later to see Patrick starting to remove the photo from the frame. She quickly crosses the room and snatches the frame out of his hands. “You were going to rip that up, weren’t you?” 

Patrick contemplates telling the lie, but decides against it because it is pointless, he is a shitty liar and Jacqueline already knew what he was planning to do, so he settles for asking “What if they bring their cameras in here tomorrow and look around and see that? It would be all over the internet in hours”. 

Jacqueline is rolling her eyes as Patrick continues “Don’t say it could be anyone, Erica always say my face hasn’t matured since I was a kid, you’re always calling me babyface, and you know, it wouldn’t even be the chirping from other teams that would insufferable. Do you have any idea what Sharpie would make of this? And don’t even get me started on Seabs and Duncs and....”

“Patrick.” Jacqueline is cutting him off. “I’ll hide the photo.”

 

**Summer 2007: Toronto ON.**

Sometimes, Patrick really wishes his parents ended up having more boys after he was born, rather than three girls. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his sisters, in fact, that is exactly the problem here. He loves them a bit too much for his own good and suspects a group of three boys wouldn’t have him wrapped around their collective little fingers the way Erica, Jessica and Jacqueline do. A group of boys probably also wouldn’t constantly bring up the fact that they suffer through all his hockey matches in order to guilt trip him into doing things for them that he’d really rather not. 

This was exactly how he got roped into taking his sisters up to Toronto for a Jonas Brother’s concert a fortnight before draft weekend. Their mother had purchased the tickets for the four of them a couple of months ago, apparently the girls deserved a reward for all the sacrificed they’d made for Patrick’s career, but a nasty bout of the flu had both parents stuck in bed and insisting there was no way they were letting three high school girls go to Toronto by themselves for a concert, especially when Erica hadn’t even had her car for a month yet. 

“What if Patrick came with us?” Jessica asked. (He had never detested having little sisters more than in that moment.)

His mother paused a moment, considering the idea before saying “If you can convince Patrick to go with you and drive, I don’t see the problem. He’s been driving a while, and he played up in London last season, so he’s been to Toronto lately”. (Fuck.)

An hour of begging, pleading, guilting and emotional blackmail culminating in Jessica pointing out that she was missing the huge end-of-sophomore-year-party at Blake’s house to go to Ohio for draft weekend and “not that I mind because it is exciting and I really want to be there for you, but at this particular moment it is relevant information because see how much we do for you and please Pattycakes? Please” and Patrick has given into his sisters yet again and is driving them into Canada with them the next day. When they arrived in Toronto at least three hours early, Patrick insists his sisters need to be introduced to the godsend that is Tim Horton’s, because they will never try better donuts in their lives, guaranteed. As they are eating (and Patrick is wondering how many more simply normal moments like this he will have with his sisters after the draft), Jacqueline nearly gives Patrick permanent hearing loss with an incredibly loud squeal as she spots the Jonas Brothers entering the place, and the girls are over there quicker than Patrick has ever seen them move before, asking if it would be OK to take a couple of pictures. 

That is how there came to be a picture of Patrick, Erica, Jessica and Jacqueline Kane with the Jonas Brothers. Originally, just the three girls posed with....whatever the fuck their names were, Patrick didn’t know or care to learn in all honesty, but when they pleaded for him to jump in one photo with them all and handed a camera to the kind looking old lady nearby, he reluctantly agreed, knowing they’d just nag at him if he didn’t and embarrass them all. But first he made them solemnly swear it would not end up on their Facebook or Myspace pages, because the last thing he wanted to be known as was to be the prospect who liked boybands.

\--

It didn’t take long for Patrick to settle into Chicago after the draft, and it took even less time for Jonathan Toews to become a good friend. But he knew Jonathan was now his best friend when they were back in Buffalo to play the Sabres in December and Patrick’s parents extended an invitation for Jonathan to join them all for an early Christmas dinner and his sisters decided to play a game of “Who can embarrass Patrick the most in front of his cute new Hockey Friend”. 

Jessica thought she’d won the game by pulling out that picture, but Jonathan merely looked at the picture, smiled, and said they were lucky to have such a great brother. Patrick’s cheeks went a little pink as he smiled back at Jonathan. 

Later that night they were sitting in Patrick's old bedroom, Patrick telling Jonathan kinds of stories about him and his sisters, showing him different trophies and signed hockey memorabilia he had around the room. Somewhere along the line, they fell asleep on his bed. When Patrick's mother came in to see if they wanted some hot chocolate, she saw the two boys asleep, her son's arm thrown carelessly across his friend's sleeping body, it confirmed what she'd suspected all evening.

Her son had a bit of a crush on his best friend. And while she didn’t know the lovely Jonathan boy all that well, she was pretty sure he had a crush on her son as well. 

 

**November 2009: Somewhere between Los Angeles, CA & Chicago IL. **

Brent Seabrook is a total douchebag. 

Well, OK, maybe Patrick was stupid enough to fall asleep on the flight back from Los Angeles because one of the main unspoken rules of hockey was that if you fall asleep at any point on a road trip, you were completely fair game for embarrassing pranks from your teammates. But that still didn’t excuse Brent from being labelled a douchebag, because by using Patrick’s face as a canvas for some particularly embarrassing sharpie art (namely a large penis drawn along Patrick’s right cheek to his mouth with the word “Tazer” and a downward arrow above it and the words “I wanna fuck Captain Serious” on the left) he had earned the title. 

When Patrick woke up, Jonathan was still sleeping next to him, a glance at his watch telling him he hadn’t been asleep for as long as he thought and it would still be at least an hour and a half before they touched down in Chicago. He catches himself staring at the way Jonathan’s hair sticks up as he sleeps, so decides to distract himself with some music. Patrick fumbles in the seat pockets looking for his iPod, accidentally elbowing Jonathan in the process, cringing when he sees Jonathan waking up, looking disoriented for a moment before remembering his surroundings. Patrick apologises for waking him and Jonathan looks at him for a couple of moments, his brown eyes as wider than if Patrick had just told him he was quitting Hockey to become a children’s author before getting up and leaving with no explanation whatsoever. Patrick sits back in his seat, thoroughly confused and working on untangling his headphone cord when Brent is sitting down in what was Jonathan’s seat, an insufferably smug smile on his face as he taunts “you scare all the boys off, hey Kaner?”. 

Patrick is glaring at him “I don’t know what happened but I don’t need your input”. Brent pulls his phone from his pocket and shows Patrick a picture he’d taken while he was asleep. “I’m going to wager it had something to do with your face, guess he doesn’t want a blow job from you, man. Then again, who would, eh?”. 

They may be friends, but Brent just hit the wrong fucking nerve.

\--

Patrick was in the tiny, cramped bathroom of the plane, cursing it for being so damned small as he scrubbed at his cheek with a wet tissue, slamming his hand against the sink in frustration when the drawings won't come off, wincing at the pain searing through his hand. He ignores the knock at the door, but when whoever is on the other side only gets more persistent and continues, he rolls his eyes, conceding defeat and sliding it open. Sharpie wastes no time pushing past Patrick, making the tiny bathroom feel even more cramped than it was before.  
Sharpie has a washcloth in his hand, and he nudges past Patrick, wetting it with some warm water and hand soap before sitting Patrick down on the closed toilet seat, starting to scrub the drawings off Patrick’s cheeks. 

“You need to talk about anything, kid?”

Yes, actually, Sharpie, there are a million things I need to talk about. I need to talk to someone about how stupidly in love I am with my best friend. My best friend who happens to be a guy that you know pretty well. When I like girls. At least I usually like girls. So yeah, that is kinda confusing. And I can never tell my friend I love him because I see him every single day. I have to play on his line, be his teammate, keep it professional when I just really, really like him. I have to keep it a secret, which is just killing me because I constantly just want to kiss him. Kiss him and pray he kisses me back. I’ve been feeling like this for two years, ever since my parents invited Jonathan to dinner that night and he didn’t make fun of me when my sisters were being shitheads. I thought it would go away, but it didn’t, I just kept falling harder and fucking harder. That’s not an easy secret to keep you know? And then Brent drew this crap on my face and Jonathan looked at me all weird and ran away so clearly the thought of being with me is the grossest thing in the world which makes me feel fucking fantastic because in case you haven’t worked it out already, I love Jonathan. So. Fucking. Much. 

But of course, Patrick can’t actually tell anyone this, not even Sharpie who’d never tell anyone else, who he would trust with his sister’s lives if he had to and would probably have been the person he’d have picked talk to if he could tell someone. 

Patrick shakes his head. 

Thankfully Sharpie doesn’t press the matter, he just nods, and wordlessly finishes scrubbing off the last of the pen marks on Patrick's face and throws the washcloth into the bin. 

"If you change your mind and do want to talk, I'm around ok?"

Patrick thanks him, wishing he could take him up on that offer. He didn’t know how much he wanted to talk to someone until someone he trusts had said they were willing to listen. 

"I will also see that Brent isn't sharing those pictures around". 

Oh. Sharpie definitely has a bit of an idea what is going on in Patrick’s head then, because Sharpie usually loves an embarrassing picture more than anyone and is usually the first to print them off and stick them on the locker room door.  
Patrick can’t decide if it is a relief someone else kinda knows or whether the thought makes him want to die. 

 

**Feburary 2010, Vancouver BC.**

There will eventually come a day where Patrick learns to stop making bets with his teammates because they always seem to end in some embarrassing situation. But that day would not be during the 2010 Olympics, because as Parise liked to point out, bets and wagers were a vital form of team bonding, something they desperately needed if the ice cold tension between Kesler and Backes was anything to go by. It was how quite a few embarrassing and amusing situations came about, most notably Phil Kessel being forced to very publicly propose marriage to an distinctly unimpressed Lindsey Vonn at breakfast while Bobby Ryan made sure it was all caught for posterity on his flip camera. 

It was also how Patrick Kane and Erik Johnson had to give each other a lapdance to that ridiculous “I know you want me” song in front of several of their teammates, their punishment for having their asses handed to them in Mario Cart by team Parise/Kesler. Patrick and Erik had been friends for years, having lived in Michigan together through high school and rooming today at two Junior World tournaments, and since they had kept in touch over the years, there was no awkwardness at all when they were paired back up at the Olympics. It doesn't mean Patrick exactly wants to gyrate around his lap either, but he is never one to back out of a bet, so he announces he is going into his room to get a chair. 

Patrick doesn't realize Erik has followed him until he hears the chirp "Just pretend I'm your boyfriend, Toews". Patrick wants to pretend he didn't hear the comment because that is exactly the problem, Jonathan isn't his boyfriend, no matter how much Patrick wishes he was. But he can't really ignore it because they both know he heard, so Patrick just settles for a clipped "Shut the fuck up", Erik looking slightly taken back by the venom in his friend’s voice, but Patrick was already leaving the room with the chair, so Erik follows Patrick from the room. 

(Besides, even if it stung Patrick a little, it was actually good advice, weird as that sounds.)

Patrick is lucky he has always had the kind of personality where he can flick a switch and ham it up for the amusement of those around him and that he can usually cover up what he is really feeling, so it is not long before he is back in the living room, throwing a scarf around Erik’s neck and performing some highly exaggerated dance moves before leaning in to place a big kiss on Erik’s left check as Parise laughs so hard Kesler actually has to put down his phone (the fucker had probably been taking a few pics, a suspicion confirmed a couple of days later when Kesler had texted one to him with an amusing chirp at the bottom) to pass Parise a water bottle so he doesn't choke. Patrick switches places with Erik, sitting on the chair, smirking in Parise and Kesler’s direction for good measure before closing his eyes, pretending that the body above him was that of his Chicago teammate, picturing Jonathan as he slips his hands under Erik's shirt, running his hands along his chest, pretending the voice singing along terribly to the song was a little deeper, a little more Canadian, a little more Jonathan.

Jonathan.

\--

Erik had been teasing Patrick alldamnfuckingday about the fact that he had softly moaned Jonathan's name when Erik was dancing on his lap the night before. The only saving grace from the nonstop teasing was the fact that he clearly wasn't loud enough for Kesler to have caught it, because he would have been relentlessly chirping him even worse than Erik was, telling him to tell Jonathan he said hi, or some bullshit like that. 

"Oh, Jonathan, Yes, Baby".

Patrick has had enough, every taunt is a remember of this pathetic crush he has on his best friend and he is sick of thinking about it, so he grabs Erik by the shoulders, pulling him down and kissing him hard, not sure whether he is trying to shut him up or whether he hopes that fucking someone else will get rid of his feelings for Jonathan. He doesn't have much time to figure it out, because it lasts all of two seconds before Erik is pushing Patrick off him, guiding his friend to the couch and pushing him down to sit on it. Erik has a good few inches on Patrick and as Patrick looks up at his friend, he should be intimidated but instead, Erik just looks amused, his face completely betraying the forcefulness he used to get Patrick off him moments before. 

"I don't think your boyfriend will like that, Kaner", Erik teases.

"Jonathan's not my boyfriend. And that's the fucking problem!" Patrick snaps, sick of hearing Jonathan be referred to as something he will never be no matter how much Patrick wishes he was. 

"......Shit," Erik mumbles. It has all just clicked in his head. 

He kneels down in front of Patrick, arms resting on his friend's knees, looking up into blue eyes that were a sea of confusion. 

"I thought you just had some bromance going, so I was chirping you as a joke, but.....you really like him don't you?"

Patrick can't talk. The words literally will not form, no matter how hard to tries to speak. So he just nods. 

Erik inhales deeply. "You know a meaningless Olympic hookup isn't going to make your feelings go away Patrick. You need to go back to Chicago and talk to Jonathan, preferably with a Gold Medal to rub in his weird looking Canadian face" Patrick cracks a smile at the last bit of Erik's sentence, and satisfied the message has gotten through, Erik squeezes Patrick's knees affectionately as he stands up, announcing he is going to bed early tonight, because he is worn out from teasing him all day and they happen to play tomorrow in case he has forgotten. 

\--

Patrick takes out his cell phone and texts Sharpie, asking if the offer he made a couple of months ago that he could talk any time is still open. No more than five minutes later, his phone lights up with an incoming call. Sharpie has barely said hello before Patrick is spilling it all, telling him everything he wanted to tell him back in November and what happened with Erik earlier and it feels like a weight off his shoulders to have finally told someone. 

Sharpie tells Patrick he needs to talk to Jonathan. 

"I know" Patrick answers. 

(The "I can't" is unspoken.)

 

**June 2010: Somewhere between Philadelphia, PA & Chicago IL. **

It all felt like a dream except for the fact that it wasn’t. Patrick Kane had earlier been lifting the Stanley Cup after scoring a winning goal in overtime. It was the kind of thing he had grown up wishing would happen but never thought could actually happen, especially just three years after being drafted. But it did. And he is sitting on a plane heading back to Chicago still trying to convince himself it happened. That they won the Stanley Cup. Patrick looks next to him and notices Jonathan is staring at him. He still hadn't had the conversation Erik and Sharpie had both told him he needed to have. It was easy enough to put it off, having made the playoffs and getting all the way to the final, he could justify not saying anything to Jonathan because they had to focus on hockey. But now the season was over, what was stopping him? 

He doesn’t know what takes over him, but Patrick is reaching over, swiping a finger across Jonathan’s cheek, the Canadian is looking at him, eyes dark with a mixture of confusion and something Patrick couldn’t place. Patrick swallowed hard, bullshitting some excuse about an eyelash on his cheek, and something that looks a little like disappointment flickers across Jonathan’s face and.....fuck. Could he? No. He couldn’t. Surely he didn’t feel the same, but all of a sudden, Patrick just has to know. 

“We just won the Stanley Cup Tazer, can you fucking believe it?”

Jonathan opens his mouth to reply, but any words he might have been able to form were stuck at the back of his throat as two of Patrick’s fingers were back on his skin, this time under his chin, making Jonathan’s entire body feel like it was on fire. Patrick closes the distance between their bodies, pressing his lips against Jonathan’s, chaste, mouth closed, pressing hard enough to convey the message that his was something he wanted, but still soft enough that if it freaked Jonathan out, he could write it off as a little too much to drink and go give Seabs or Sharpie an exaggerated peck as well. But Jonathan didn’t seem freaked out, because he wasn’t pulling away and he sighed so softly Patrick nearly missed it and that realization makes Patrick’s heart beat faster, so he decides to take a gamble, moving to slip his tongue to swipe across Jonathan’s lower lip to part them and....

Flash. 

A camera flash. 

Patrick and Jonathan quickly pulled away from each other and looked up to see Brent Seabrook leaning over the back of the seats in front of them, camera in hand, shit eating grin on his face. 

“God, how much have you two been drinking? Come on Tazer, where is my kiss, if you will kiss Kaner’s ugly mug, surely you can’t deny my stunning face”. 

Jonathan’s cheeks are starting to turn pink, and Patrick knows Brent isn’t going to let this one go, (because when does Brent ever let anything go), so he stands up as much as the cramped plane quarters will allow. Patrick tugs roughly on the back of Brent’s neck, kissing him full on the lips, darting his tongue out to lick along Brent’s lips, which makes Brent quickly pull away, laughing and calling Patrick a “crazy drunken bastard” as he ruffles Patrick’s curls and kisses the top of his head, before going back over to Duncan, to show him the embarrassing picture he just got of “Captain Serious and Kaner’s drunken shenanigans”. 

Patrick sits back in his seat and looks over at Jonathan, who is staring at the floor, eyes focused on everything not Patrick. That settled it then, he clearly was freaked out by it. Patrick stares out the window, hating himself for fucking up the best thing he never really had anyway. 

“So you were just messing with me”. A statement, not a question. And Jonathan sounded more like a dejected child than a 22 year old man with a horrible beard who had just lifted the Stanley Cup hours earlier. 

”What?”

“You were just messing with me? I thought maybe...nothing. You kissed Seabs. Just messing around. I thought that maybe you meant it when you kissed me, but you know, never mind”. Jonathan looked embarrassed. 

Oh. Right. 

“I did mean it”.

Jonathan is looking at him, and even though the lighting in the plane is dim and fairly terrible, Patrick is pretty sure he can see a hint of sparkle in them, and he hopes like hell it is him making his eyes looks so warm. 

“I kiss you because I was drunk, ok that’s a lie, but it is more that it just made it easier, because I couldn’t have managed that Sober because I’d have talked myself out of it. But I did it because I wanted to. Because. Because I like you. Like, a stupidly big amount, like, all Erik did during the Olympics was tease the shit out of me for it. I did it because I had wanted to do that for a long time and if I couldn’t try it today and when could I and...”

“Patrick. You’re rambling”.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to it’s just that I’ve wanted to tell you for so long an.....”

It takes every bit of self restraint Jonathan has not to roll his eyes, so he settles for just cutting Patrick off. 

“Patrick. Shut up. I like you too”. 

\--

It’s well past 3am when they touchdown in Chicago and almost 4am by the time they make it back to Patrick’s apartment. They’re exhausted, even adrenaline has its limits, but neither of them are going to let a little tiredness get in the way of something they have waited so long for. As soon as they are inside, Patrick is roughly shoving Jonathan against the wall, making quick work of Jonathan’s belt, pulling his pants and boxers down to his knees before doing the same with his own. He kisses Jonathan again, but unlike their kiss on the plane, this is messy and there is a little too much teeth, but Patrick doesn’t care as he licks his way into Jonathan’s mouth, before shoving a hand between their bodies, wrapping a hand around their cocks, bringing their cocks together and Jonathan hisses, pulling away from Patrick’s lips to breathe and Patrick takes a moment to look at Jonathan (shit he looks so beautiful right now) before moving his hand, stroking fast, causing Jonathan to throw his head back against the wall, which Patrick takes as an invitation to suck on the exposed skin on his neck, hard enough to leave a mark. It is rough and messy, but neither of them really care, because it doesn’t even last two minutes before Jonathan is coming over Patrick’s hand with a low grunt, the sound pushing Patrick over the edge with him.

As he comes down from his orgasm, Jonathan doesn’t know where to look, so Patrick takes the lead, kissing Jonathan softly before taking his shirt off and using it to wipe them off. Patrick throws it behind him onto the floor, Jonathan wrinkling his nose at Patrick slightly because surely it isn’t that hard to go get a cloth. Jonathan begins to pull his pants up, because he probably should be going home, but Patrick stops him, taking his wrist and pulling him into the bedroom. 

“Stay, you idiot”, Patrick says.

 

**June 2015: Chicago IL.**

Two days earlier, Patrick and Jonathan had won their third Stanley Cup together, and this time it felt even better because it was on home ice, and getting watch Jonathan lift the cup in front of their own fans, in their own arena was something else he couldn’t even begin to explain. 

Patrick didn’t know who the hell would be buzzing at his door at 1:30am, but he goes to answer anyway, assuming one of his sisters must have decided to come back down to Chicago for the parade on the weekend (and of so, why didn't she call ahead god’s sake so he could have picked her up at the airport instead of her getting a cab so late at night), but he is greeted by Sharpie's face on the other side of the door. 

Patrick raises a surprised eyebrow. "Sharpie, I don't remember making a bootycall, so this is a surprise". 

Sharpie steps inside, ignoring Patrick's joke and asking in a pretty serious tone if he can have a chat with him and Jonathan. Patrick may have not quite outgrown his boyish tendency to mess around, but he can tell that Sharpie isn’t messing around right now, so he asks what is wrong. Sharpie replies that he will wait until Jonathan is here so he doesn't have to explain twice. 

"Explain what twice?" Jonathan's voice comes from the hallway. “What the hell are you doing here so late?”. 

Sharpie sits them down at the kitchen table and asks if anything happened between them in the parking lot as they left after the match two days ago. 

\--

Jonathan had been teasing Patrick since the moment the winning goal went in, constantly moving to hug him under the guise of unbridled celebration, but what he was really doing was rolling his hips against Patrick’s body, pressing halfhardness into Patrick, giving him an exaggerated kiss on the cheek for cameras, but whispering things like “can’t wait until I have my lips around your dick later” in his ear where no one but him could hear before pulling away and godfuckingdamnit, why did there have to be so many people and cameras around? Patrick just wanted to get Jonathan’s pants off then and there and fuck him through the floor. Finally, it winds down, the press is leaving and they are heading home. 

They’re walking towards the carpark when Patrick feels a lick behind his ear. “About time I get you to myself” and that’s fucking IT, he turns around and kisses Jonathan as he backs him up against the cold concrete wall of the carpack entrance. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that right?” and Jonathan isn’t given a chance to respond, not when Patrick is palming his cock through the pants of his suit, feeling it harden under the material. Jonathan is moaning into Patrick’s mouth as he presses up into Patrick’s touch, clawing at his boyfriend’s back as Patrick continues to work at Jonathan’s cock, and at that moment Jonathan doesn’t even care if he is going to come in his pants because he just needs.....

Patrick to NOT be pulling away from him and starting to walk towards his car. 

“You fucking serious, Kaner?”

Patrick takes a few steps before turning around, smirking at the sight of Jonathan against the wall, breathing heavily, pants tented, cheeks red, bottom lip between his teeth. 

“How you like being teased now, huh Tazer?” Patrick laughs, eyes looking at the sizeable bulge he’d left Jonathan with. “I’ll deal with that when we get home”

Patrick and Jonathan look at each other, Patrick smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at Jonathan, whose cheeks have gone very pink in the last three or so seconds. Patrick doesn’t really care to share the details and neither does Jonathan, judging by the way he can’t even look Sharpie in the eye, so Patrick settles for just telling Sharpie “There may have been....a couple of kisses, why?”. 

\--

Patrick’s heart feels like it is beating outside of his chest as Sharpie tells them that there are pictures and they have leaked on the internet thanks to some nosey college girl who somehow got in the carpark, and it is going to be a massive shit storm tomorrow morning. 

Jonathan gets up from the table and is running into their bedroom. Patrick hears the door slam and he knows that Jonathan has to be worried and is probably blaming himself alone even though this is both their fault. Both of them could have stopped it, but they didn’t. Jonathan has always been the one who is responsible with their relationship, making sure Patrick’s hands are not where they shouldn’t be when someone could see, and now it has all blown up in their faces because they got a little complacent, a little too desperate and wound up and now they’ll be facing a million questions from everyone. He probably hates himself now, and that just makes Patrick’s heart ache. 

Patrick is on his feet, but isn’t really sure if he should follow Jonathan to apologise for fucking everything up or talk to Sharpie, because he always seems to have the answers. Patrick is looking everywhere yet nowhere at the same time, he’s just so fucking confused right now. Sharpie is in front of Patrick, putting his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders, begging him to listen to him without saying anything and Patrick nods. 

“Look, I know this is going to be hard to deal with, but you haven’t done anything wrong here, you were kissing your boyfriend in a parking lot, not doing a line of coke off some hooker’s thigh or some shit. If that was me and Abby in those pictures, no one would care. I could have happily lived not seeing your hand on his dick, but that’s because you’re like two little brothers to me. Remember how grossed out you were when you walked in on Erica and her boyfriend in here that time even though she still had all her clothes on?”

Patrick wrinkles his nose at the memory, and Sharpie laughs, making sure he had Patrick’s full attention before continuing what he needs his friend to know. 

“You know on the team we all know about you and Tazer, have no problem with it, your families have known for years and are happy for you guys, so if people want to think it is fucked up or wrong, that is their problem. Some people are going to be shitty to you about and that pisses me off, but fuck them, Kaner. Their opinions don’t matter and the people that matter, your family, your friends, your team? Have your back? Ok?” 

Patrick doesn’t know what to say, he just feels like he could cry from those words, because they’re not alone, so he just throws his arms around Sharpie who returns the hug. He feels like a little girl all of a sudden but it is comfort, and he needs a little comfort before he can try and fix this. 

‘Go be with Jonathan, he needs you’. 

\--

Jonathan is staring out the window of their bedroom as if he is hoping the street lights have all the answers he is searching for. Patrick wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist from behind, pressing a firm kiss between his shoulder blades before turning Jonathan around to face him. 

Jonathan opens his mouth slightly, and when no words come after a few seconds, Patrick sees the frustration flicker across his Jonathan’s face. He can tell Jonathan wants to say something and is feeling like he should have the answers right now and the fact he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix this is making him feel like he is letting Patrick down. Jonathan’s mouth opens again, and Patrick raises one of his index fingers, pressing it against his boyfriend’s lips as he shakes his head. Jonathan gets it. Patrick isn’t expecting him to be in captain mode here, isn’t expecting him to have all the answers, and but it doesn’t make him feel any less worried, any less guilty or any less terrified about what is going to happen tomorrow when they have to face the world. They don’t need to talk, not now, and Jonathan just needs to forget. 

Patrick takes Jonathan’s hand and leads him to the bed, pushing him down onto it and climbing on top of him. He brings Jonathan’s arms to rest above his head, threading their fingers together before squeezing Jonathan’s hands. Patrick knows that no matter what he says, Jonathan is going to keep thinking, so he settles for a simple “Worry about it in the morning, we can’t do anything about it right now” as he shifts to move his body lower, determined to make Jonathan forget. 

Patrick kisses a path down Jonathan’s chest as his fingers draw soft circles over his hip bones and even though he can still feel the tension in Jonathan’s body, he feels his boyfriend start to relax underneath him. He takes Jonathan’s length into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head slowly as he curls a finger around the base, determined to draw it out, take his mind off things a little longer, and as Jonathan claws at the sheets beneath him, moaning ‘god, Patrick, more, need more’, he swipes his tongue down along his dick, sucking gently on one of his balls before licking back up, taking the head back into his mouth as his hand begins to jerk him off. Jonathan is completely gone now, mumbling something in French and as soon as Patrick uses his other hand runs his other hand up Jonathan’s thigh, the Canadian is coming, Patrick swallowing as his hand jerks Jonathan’s orgasm from him. 

Patrick shifts his body back up alongside Jonathan’s, relieved to see he is clearly tired. So he presses one last kiss to Jonathan’s hairline, telling him to sleep. He feels Jonathan’s body soften under him shifting to snuggle against Patrick’s side, head burying into the crook of his arm, falling asleep a few minutes later. 

As Patrick looks down at Jonathan, he silently promises his boyfriend he won’t let this ruin them.


End file.
